How to Destroy Someone's Metabolism
by FrozenLakeBeast
Summary: (Namely, Prussia's.) Russia doesn't like how Prussia is always so thin. It's terribly unfair. So, he decides to take the initiative and do something about it. Warning: This is pretty totally a weight gain fic. Please, if you don't like that sort of thing, ignore this, it's fine.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, yo, hey. Of course I felt the need to infiltrate even your most sacred grounds. But, this was intended to be chapter-y, so chapter-y it shall be. **

**ALSO: For general info, see my profile, please. (I put stuff there so I wouldn't have to put it on everything I do ever.) Also, I believe now is when I give the constant "DON'T LIKE DON'T READ" slogan. Heed this, please.**

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I.

Today was turning out to be a terrible day. First, Russia had woken up much too late, and with all the symptoms of a hangover. This was annoying; he was certain he didn't drink that much last night. Or, at the very least, not enough to warrant _this. _Second, since he woke up so late, he didn't have time to shower or have breakfast. Russia wasn't so bothered about having to skip a shower (it wasn't like he _needed_ to, and it was better to conserve water. Right?), but he wasn't so thrilled about skipping breakfast. It was probably better this way, however, since he'd reached his third problem: finding pants that fit. He couldn't wear the pants he wore every day to the world meeting, but his Meeting Pants were... a bit too tight. After a few precious minutes of struggling, he finally managed to button them. He was more than a little uncomfortable, but there wasn't much he could do at this point. The meeting was in the city and started in...ten minutes. It took at least thirty to get there on a good day. As stated before, today was not one of those days. In fact, as it turned out, he'd be lucky to get there in the first hour, because problem number four made itself apparent: his car wouldn't start. Russia didn't have time to think about _why _or how to fix it, just that he needed to get to the meeting and _how could he get there when his car wouldn't work_. It was unlikely that someone would come get him, the buses didn't run out here, and it would take _forever_ for a taxi to come. His only option, it seemed, was to walk.

Luckily for Russia, after walking for a good long while he managed to find a bus heading in the general direction he was and arrived at the meeting only an hour and a half late. When he walked into the room, Germany looked like he was going to say something but decided not to. No one else said anything, either. This was just fine with Russia, who found a seat and started taking notes.

He looked at his watch. Only two more hours until lunch. He could make it.

His stomach growled. Oh. _Only_ two more hours until lunch. He knew he'd gone much longer without food, but he also knew how terrible those times had been. His stomach growled again, louder and longer, and he blushed when America turned around to give him a nasty smirk. He wasn't really in the mood for fighting, and did his best to concentrate only on his notes, especially as his stomach growled again. This was going to be a long two hours.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was time for lunch. The nations had an hour to do what they wanted. Some went off to do their own thing within the building and city, though most went to the cafeteria. Russia followed along, piling his plate high with foods from the Slavic, French, Chinese, and Italian tables. He knew this wouldn't help his weight problem and that the other countries were (probably) staring and snickering at him, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. That was for later. Now was for eating.

About halfway through with his meal he started to reach a comfortable fullness. He wouldn't stop until his plate was empty (because it was a waste of food and rude otherwise), but...his pants, already painfully tight, were beginning to dig into his stomach. He wanted to unbutton them, but there were people around! Perhaps...he should go to the bathroom and do it there. Yes.

Standing up proved to be rather uncomfortable as well, and walking had it's own level of discomfort. He finally got to the bathroom, and slipped into the handicapped stall. It was embarrassing to do in to open – what if someone walked in?!

Russia took off his coat, pulled up his shirt (which had already been rolling up a bit), reached under his belly, and unbuttoned his pants. They unzipped themselves, and he just left them that way. He held his pants up using just his belt, which, regretfully, was on the last loop. His coat was long enough to cover it, so he wouldn't worry about it just now. As he left, he checked himself in the mirror. He certainly didn't look his best, but it was good enough.

Just as Russia finished his lunch (with a few minutes to go), a tray full of food from the Germanic table slammed down across from him.

"Hey, fatass, did you like your first chin so much you decided to grow two more?"

Before he could stop it, his hand flew to his chin. He only had one! He'd made sure of that in the bathroom. Sure, it was probably a lot fleshier than it should have been, and kind of looked like two sometimes, but...lots of people's chins did that!

After he'd recovered, he looked up to see who had spoken. "Gilbert."

Gilbert, who was currently gasping for breath, pounding on the table, and shoving food into his mouth all at the same time, managed to choke out, "Your _face_!. _Mein Gott_, if my camera still worked, your face would be all over my blog!"

Russia had two options. He could break Prussia in half right now, or he could be personable and friendly like his boss sometimes asked. True, Prussia wasn't really a country anymore, but he was linked to Germany. There was no doubt that whatever Russia did to Prussia, his brother would take as a personal attack. He should really try to be polite. "Why did your camera break," he asked, without any actual interest or tonal inflictions.

"Eh, I dropped it in a mug of beer last night. Dunno why, I wasn't really using it... What, do want some?"

Russia had been staring at Prussia's mouth, wondering how it could do so many things at once; he was pretty sure Prussia wasn't breathing, and talking as he swallowed. At the question, he shook his head and placed a hand on his stomach. "Ah...I believe I've already had too much."

Prussia waved off Russia's answer and shoveled some food onto his plate. "You're already so big, what's a bit more going to do? I don't think I have time to finish without help."

Russia was fairly certain that was another jab at his weight, but Prussia was right. There wasn't much time left. The cafeteria was nearly empty, and he should really head back, but...he couldn't turn down food. He'd lived through enough famines and food shortages to learn that turning down offered food was not a thing one did. So, despite his already moderately uncomfortable fullness, he ate. "Why are you here?"

"My brother and I went out for lunch, and I decided to follow him back here, to see what you all were up to. Everyone was at lunch, so I thought, 'Why not?'"

Finished, Russia leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. He really was far too full, and wished he could loosen his belt a few notches. It and the teeth of his zipper were digging uncomfortably into the flesh of his belly. "Why did you sit with me? Weren't France and Spain here?"

Prussia shrugged. "Everyone else was leaving. Besides, you look like a fatass eating this much alone."

Again with the weight. Russia knew he wasn't thin, but did they _really _have to rub it in constantly? More importantly, everyone was gone?A quick survey of the room showed that yes, everyone else was gone. A time check showed the meeting started five minutes ago._ Shit. _Russia stood up and gathered his things. This was the second time he was late today, in a meeting in his _own country_. This was beyond embarrassing. He turned to leave, but being friendly and polite meant saying good-bye, right? Even if he didn't particularly care for the person. Well. It didn't mean he'd have to be _nice_. "I have to go thank you for the food good-bye." He spoke as if he were reading it off a teleprompter, and with no emotion at all.

"Hey, wait! Why bother going back? You're already late. West told me you were late this morning, too. What's it even matter? It can't be _that_ important."

Looking back at Prussia, he looked absolutely pathetic. Pale, scrawny (how could he stay so thin, eating two lunches?), and forlorn, though he was trying hard to cover that up. Russia felt kind of bad leaving him like this, but he really needed to get back. "I have to go to a meeting in my own country. It's bad manners not to. But...perhaps, if you want, you can come to my house later. For dinner."

Russia knew Prussia wasn't exactly fond of him, either, so he was more than surprised when Prussia shrugged and said, "Why the hell not. Guess I'll see you later, then?"

Russia nodded and quickly left, not thrilled to be stared at again for being late.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

After the meeting, Russia wandered outside, wondering if the bus that he'd caught that morning was anywhere around. He didn't see it, and it didn't seem like it was coming any time soon, so Russia started walking home. Actually, he should probably buy bigger pants while he was out. And a belt. And maybe some food for dinner? But he'd have to carry it all, so maybe not. Just the things that wouldn't be too bulky to carry.

An obnoxious car horn pulled Russia from his thoughts on what he had to do. When he looked around to find the source, and equally obnoxious laugh joined in with the horn.

Of course. Gilbert.

Prussia rolled down the window of his Trabant and, still smirking in an unpleasant way, said,"You look like an absolute idiot walking! Get in the car."

Russia, who felt he could easily take Prussia if it came to it, got in the car. "Thank you."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "Don't thank me, asshole. You look beyond stupid trying to walk along the side of the road. You just going home?"

"Ah, no, I needed to run some errands."

"Well see, it would have been dumb of you to try without a car. Where do you need to go?"

Russia told him, and asked, "Why do you care?"

Prussia stared at the road. "You didn't tell me to shut up or go away earlier. And weren't we hanging out?"

Russia blinked. "I was being nice. And I invited you to dinner, that's all."

Prussia's grip tightened on the wheel. "Oh."

Had he done something wrong? He didn't _think_ so..."What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't care," Prussia mumbled. He fumbled for the radio, and suddenly the car was filled with loud music and people screaming in German, with Prussia screaming along with them.

Russia's house wasn't in the best of shape. It wasn't as bad as it had been, but it had certainly seen better days. He felt a little embarrassed before he remembered who he was with. Then he forgot to care.

He walked inside, ready to put everything away. Prussia trailed along behind him, looking distant and a bit like he wasn't sure what to do with himself. When Russia turned to look directly at him, though, he stood up straight and put on an expression that fell somewhere between "I Have Better Things to Do" and "I'm Just Humoring You, Really".

"I have to go upstairs to take care of some things. Please don't destroy anything."

"Right. Like there's anything worth breaking here anyhow," Prussia scoffed, "You don't even have anything cool to do."

"I have Tetris."

"Of course you do."

Russia went upstairs to change into something that didn't hurt every time he tried to walk, or breath, or do anything at all, really. When he came back downstairs to put the groceries and whatnot in the kitchen, he noticed a large suitcase by the door, a laptop open on the couch, and no Prussia. Oh, well.

It turned out Prussia was just in Russia's kitchen, raiding his fridge. "You've got way more food in your house than West. It all sucks."

"Why is there a suitcase by my door?"

Prussia straightened up and looked uncomfortable. "Ah...West kicked me out. For a while. Not long. Maybe."

"And you think you can stay here."

"Well, um, yeah? It's not like you don't have room. You probably won't even see me."

But Russia would _hear_ him. He liked liveliness, sure, but there was a limit. Prussia exceeded that limit every time he opened his mouth. On the other hand...

Russia really was tired of all those jabs at his weight. Maybe if there was another..._big-boned_ country-thing the comments would stop? And here, standing in his kitchen and eating his food, was an opportunity. Russia was not fond of missing those.

"Of course you can stay!" Russia smiled broadly. "You can even have the room you used to use when you stayed over, if you want."

"Ah, no. I think I'll pass. I'll find another to use."

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**A/N: I've been working on the third chapter for ages it'll come out sometime I promise. I don't know where I want it to go. Maybe it won't really go anywhere. Who knows.**


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